


Sole Synced

by The_Epitome_of_Pretense



Series: The Sole Saga [16]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dancing, F/M, French Kissing, Kissing, Robot/Human Relationships, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Epitome_of_Pretense/pseuds/The_Epitome_of_Pretense
Summary: Nick teaches Sole a new dance.





	Sole Synced

Nick’s eyes seemed distant that afternoon. He tapped his pencil on the notepad he had been scribbling in. After a moment, Sole realized he was keeping time with the song on the radio. Yet he stared at nothing; she couldn’t tell if he was upset or just thinking about something. Whatever it was, she decided to find out. She put down her book. 

“Do you like this song?” she said. 

He seemed to startle from his thoughts. 

“Hmm?”

“This song. I was asking if you liked it.”

“Oh—yeah, I do. Why do you ask?”

“You seem a little preoccupied.”

He tilted his head in a nonchalant gesture. 

“I just got a flash of memory is all.”

Sole sat up a little straighter. 

“Really? What about?”

“I was dancing somewhere,” he said, his eyes still distant. “To this song.”

Sole hesitated. 

“With someone?” she said.

“Mm-hm.” He rubbed his brow. “I can’t remember who, though. Couldn’t see her face.”

“You were dancing with her, but you couldn’t see her face?”

“Well, it was a Balboa.”

“What was? She was?”

“No, the dance was,” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. 

“Ah.”

She returned to her reading, but could feel his eyes lingering on her. 

“Kind of slow,” he added. “I don’t think it’s technically a ‘slow’ slow dance, but it is slower than some.”

“I see. And…” she raised a brow at him, “you do this dance with your eyes closed?”

His mouth tugged up into a smirk, and he shook his head. 

“Laugh it up, why don’t you,” he said. 

“Oh, I will.”

She chuckled and returned to her book. A moment passed in busy quiet, each focused on their own task. Yet Nick kept tapping. She waited for him to say something; she hoped he would.

He glanced at her, then away. 

“Say, uh—” he began, “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a dance, would you?”

She wanted to jump up from her seat right then and there, but held herself back. There was something odd about how he hesitated; he certainly hadn’t done so at the Third Rail. But she wouldn’t lose the opportunity to give him a hard time. 

“Since when did you get so shy about it?” she said. 

“Since it’s the middle of the afternoon and we’re in the office. Doesn’t exactly set the mood.”

“Yeah, it’s not nearly as romantic as a greasy bar in Goodneighbor.”

“If you didn’t want to, you could’ve just said so,” he grumbled. 

“No, no, I definitely want to.”

“Alright then.”

“Alright.”

Nick stood, and Sole followed, almost knocking over the chair in her haste. He offered his hand. She regained her composure and stepped close, resting her free hand on his shoulder as she had before. 

“Actually, the stance for this one is a bit different than what you may be used to,” he said.

“How so?”

“It’s—damn, how do I explain this… it’s ‘zippered up,’ you see. Like this.”

He wrapped his arm about her waist, pulling her close until her front was pressed at an angle to his right side. His fingers conformed to the slope of her hip. 

“Oh,” she said. “I see what you mean.”

“Well, this isn’t quite it either.”

“How so?”

“Try leaning into my shoulder a bit more.”

“Like this?” She brought herself a fraction closer. 

“Hmm. Let me put it this way: it’ll be more awkward if you try to avoid awkwardness.”

A blush crept into her face. Now that he pointed it out, she realized how she was arching her back to keep her chest and hips at a distance. She stepped forward and straightened up, bringing the front of her body flush with his. The close proximity prompted her to wrap her arm tight about his shoulder, resting her hand between the blades. The blush on her cheeks burned hotter. 

“I guess awkwardness is a little unavoidable, isn’t it?” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. 

“I think it’s only as awkward as you make it.”

He began to shuffle back and forth, whispering the beat under his breath, moving her along with a sure ease, with a firmness that had nothing it of demand. She soon picked up on the rhythm. With his thigh pressed to hers, she found it easy to keep time. If the whole experience didn’t send her heart racing, the subtle bouncing might have lulled her to sleep. Part of her still wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, as she had at the Third Rail. 

“At any rate, I’ve seen those curves,” he continued. “It’s not gonna surprise me that you’ve got ‘em.”

His grip on her waist tightened for half a moment. 

“Well,” she said with false offense, “now I see why you were so shy about this.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You ain’t slick, Mr. Valentine. I know what you’re up to.”

“You talk like you’re not up to the exact same thing.”

“What a thing to accuse of a lady.”

“Is that so? Then how about you tell me why that hand of yours is taking such liberties.”

With a shock, she realized that she had been caressing the curve of his shoulder blade, tracing the valley of his spine with her fingers. She flattened her hand. 

“Well—what else am I supposed to do with it? Just leave it dangling in the air?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. 

“You do whatever you want, Doll.”

She decided to get him back for his earlier comment. 

Before she could think twice, she ran her fingers up the back of his neck, brushing just behind his ear. She could feel a faint shudder run through him. He stumbled to a stop. She almost laughed at the suddenness of it all. 

“Now don’t tell me you’re ticklish,” she teased. 

“No, I’m just—what’s the word—surprised,” he said. 

The smile in his voice had vanished, taking the confidence of his stance with it. She turned to look at him. His face was only a few inches away from hers, his lips so close that one move would bring them close enough. 

She took in a breath. His cologne made her dizzy. He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her cheek. A shiver ran up her spine. Yet his touch didn’t leave her skin; he made his way softly along her jaw, at last fitting their lips together. 

There was something tentative about it, something slow and cautious, a gentle request, but not in so many words. She did not need to be asked twice. She threw herself into the sensation, clutching at his coat, seeking out the new rhythm they created. Telling him yes—not in so many words. Slipping the word between his teeth. 

She expected him to pull away, but he held her tighter. His every movement grew faster until he was all around her, his hands roving along her back as though he couldn’t decide where to put them. His enthusiasm tipped her off balance; she threw both arms around his neck. She relished how he shifted in her grasp. She savored the heat, the breathlessness, the sound of rustling fabric. 

Then he really did back away, his lips hovering just within reach. She almost pulled him back again. He cleared his throat. 

“Anyway,” he said, his voice unsteady. “That’s how the dance goes.”

“Do all your dances end in kisses?” she said. 

“If they’re done right.” 

“Well. Feel free to ask me anytime.”

“How about now?”

“Please.”

He chuckled and rested his chin on her shoulder. She could not see his eyes, but she could guess their look; soft and content, but certainly not distant. He tapped a new rhythm on her waist and led her into another dance. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooo I went to a Lindy Hop workshop a couple weeks ago and learned the basics to Balboa. All I could think during practice was "damn, with the right person this would be one sexy dance." So here you go. I am shameless XD


End file.
